


The Island of Conclusions

by stereomer



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-23
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-02 09:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stereomer/pseuds/stereomer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 situations that were misconstrued for something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Island of Conclusions

**1.**

Gerard needed to lie down right fucking now or else he was going to puke all over the place. 

He stumbled across the parking lot, doing Frankenstein arms to ward off any potential blockades while probably walking sideways and in zig-zags the entire time because it took him about ninety years to get to the stupid van. When he finally reached out and grasped the cold door handle, he squeezed it once in silent thanks before pulling it open. It was empty inside at first glance, but then Frank popped up from the backseat. His hair was all mussed, eyes a little glassy. Also, it seemed he was naked as the day he was born – and naked as last Tuesday – and also a few nights ago – and honestly, when  _wasn’t_  Frank naked, was the question, but if Gerard thought about it that way – 

“Dude!” Frank bellowed. 

Gerard blinked at him. “Eh?”

They stared at each other. Frank said, “Um. If I politely ask you to leave, will you do it?”

“No. I need to lie down,” Gerard told him firmly. Lying down was serious business.

Frank’s face flitted through several different expressions before finally settling on ‘frustrated’. “Jesus fuck, Gerard. I swear.” He kicked over onto his stomach in an uncharacteristically graceless motion and ended up looking a little like a beached whale. His ass was really white.

Gerard sniffed. “It sort of smells like sex in here,” he said. Then he balked. “Oh my god, were you just jacking off?”

“Yes,” Frank groaned. “Close the door, there are people across the street!”

“I need to lie down, I’m gonna puke,” Gerard insisted. He put one foot up into the van but didn’t actually get in. Instead he studied Frank, who was seriously, seriously naked, and the full weirdness of the situation hit him all at once. “What the fuck, dude, you’re all naked and shit!” he accused in a newly invigorated tone.

“I was  _jacking off_. In  _private_ ,” Frank gritted out. “I told you guys about it this afternoon! It was all planned out and everything.”

“Well, fine, maybe you did!” Gerard yelled back, even though he actually remembered something like this happening. “Oh wait,” he said out loud, more calmly this time. “Is that what you meant by ‘squeezing one out’?”

“Did you think I was going to be in here laying eggs or something?” Frank snapped. “I’m serious, if you’re going to get in, then get the fuck in. It’s freezing out there.”

“Fine.” Gerard climbed into the van and slid the door shut behind him. “You know you don’t have to get butt fucking naked to touch yourself, man, what the fuck. Just undo your pants like normal people.”

“Fuck off,” Frank groaned. He buried his face into the seat and sort of yelled into it for a minute. Gerard knelt down and awkwardly petted the back of Frank’s head. Blue balling someone had a way of tugging at his conscience, no matter how drunk he was.

“I’m sorry, Frankie,” he said. He pressed a kiss against Frank’s hair. Frank grumbled something in response. 

A muffled voice outside yelled, “Frank, it’s 1:30. I’m giving you five seconds, and then I’m coming in.”

Frank quickly raised his head. “What – ”

“What?” Gerard asked, still petting. 

The door slid open again to reveal Mikey standing there with one arm stretched to the side, still holding onto the handle. He paused. “Uh.” Then he sniffed the air carefully and said, “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

 

**2.**

 

The shower bags were running low, so people had been doing two-to-a-shower for a few days now. Today, My Chem had finished their set just as the sun disappeared behind the mountains, which meant that they could shower afterwards and actually not sweat away the cleanliness for once. 

Gerard and Frank both had their swim trunks on, curling their feet against the wet asphalt as they tried to maneuver the hose without tangling it in any limbs or accidentally choking either of them. After the initial spraydown, Gerard was cleaning his ears when he noticed Frank sticking his hand up his shorts, trying to scrub his thigh with frustrated little grunts.

“The leg keeps scrunching up,” Frank muttered when he noticed Gerard giving him a strange look. He kept at it for a few more scrubs, then declared, “Man, fuck this.” And he stepped out of his swim trunks.

Gerard still had his finger in his ear. “Um,” he said, his voice magnified through his own head. Meanwhile, Frank was now happily scrubbing his bare hipbones. “This is, um. Really gay. Like, prison gay.”

“It's not gay unless I ask you to scrub the hard to reach places,” said Frank, and then, as if he’d been reminded of something, “ _Oh_  hey, do you want to – ”

“Dude,” Gerard said in an appalled voice while laughing a little nervously at the same time. 

Frank rolled his eyes. “Shut up for a second. I just wanted to ask you to clean out whatever happened here.” He turned around and pointed down over his shoulder. There was an angry looking island in the middle of his back where the skin had been scraped pink and a bit bloody.

Gerard poked the area around it and shuddered when a piece of dead skin, soaked clear by the shower water, made itself known by sticking to his fingertip. “How the hell did you get this?” 

“I don’t know, but it stings like a motherfucker. Come on, I can’t reach it, just clean it out.” Frank craned his neck and tried to look down, but he only succeeded in giving himself several double chins. 

“This is only because I don’t want you to get sepsis and turn into a zombie,” Gerard told him. He rubbed the corner of his loofah over the soap bar and started swiping gently over the patch of skin, ignoring Frank’s cursing. It was harder to ignore the way Frank kept twitching forward, though. Gerard grabbed Frank’s hip with his free hand and said, “Keep still.”

Surprisingly enough, Frank actually did. Gerard looked up for a quick second and saw that Frank had his shoulders relaxed and his head bowed. Gerard went back to trying to swipe away the dirt caked into the scrape. Jesus, what the hell had Frank been doing?

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” said Ray’s voice. 

Gerard’s grip instinctively tightened; he felt Frank’s muscles twitch under his fingers. When he peeked out from behind Frank, Ray was standing there with the most uncomfortable expression Gerard had ever seen. 

Frank, being Frank, chose this very inopportune time to giggle.

 

**3.**

 

Gerard hung up the phone and said, “Shit.”

“Hmm?” Frank asked through a mouthful of cereal.

“That was Brian.” Gerard ran a hand through his hair, then smelled his palm. He made a face. “I totally forgot about this sketch I was supposed to do for a charity.”

Frank swallowed down the Cap’n Crunch. “Sketch of what?”

“A woman, apparently,” Gerard said with a slight frown. “And Brian told me that I described this really detailed character and said I was going to bring her to life with oils and mixed media, but I don’t remember that at all.”

“Maybe Brian’s fucking with you.”

“Maybe. He didn’t sound like it.” Gerard’s frown became more pronounced. “Shit, I gotta do this today.”

“So do it.”

“I don’t know who to draw,” Gerard complained. He slumped against the couch and frowned so hard that he looked more like Mikey than Frank could have imagined. 

“Just pick someone off the top of your head,” Frank offered the blandest advice he could give.

Gerard hummed in thought. Abruptly, he brightened. “Hey, you kind of look like a woman.”

“Um. Thanks, asshole.” Shit. Maybe if Frank concentrated on the table, he could avoid the inevitable question that was coming up. He kept his eyes on the tiny crater of melted plastic where Bob kept putting out his cigarettes. 

“Please, like it’s the first time anyone’s told any of us that.” Gerard rolled his eyes. “Anyway, can you sit for me?”

“No,” Frank said immediately. 

“Oh, come on.”

Frank viciously crunched into the last spoonful of cereal. “Get someone else to do it! Someone who actually has like, girl parts and shit. Boobs.”

“You used to have boobs when you smoked all that pot,” Gerard pointed out.

“Thanks again, you supreme asshole. You have boobs  _now_ , draw yourself from a mirror.” 

Gerard looked unconcerned at the insults. He just scratched his left boob and made a begging face. “Frank! Please?”

“Seriously, there are so many women outside.” Frank pointed to the window to demonstrate exactly where they could be found.

“But I’m already in my bus clothes. I don't want to walk outside and ask someone if I can draw them, for Christ's sake.” Gerard gestured down to himself. He was wearing black sweats, the ones with holes in the pockets – Frank knew this because he’d worn them one time and his coins and guitar picks had ended up littered all over the place – and a shapeless t-shirt with weird stains and pinched elastic around the collar.

“Jesus,” Frank said, because he could already feel himself giving in. He sighed heavily, rolled his eyes, then sighed even more heavily, just in case Gerard didn’t fully understand how much Frank gave to this fucking band. “Where do you want me?” he asked in an exasperated voice.

Gerard brightened. “Great! That couch in the back would be awesome.” He shuffled down the narrow hallway and stopped by the couch, looking back at Frank expectantly. 

There weren’t enough sighs in the world, Frank thought. He dragged himself to the couch and plopped down onto it, squinting a little at the sunlight that was streaming in between the window blinds. Gerard took a seat on the opposite side of the room and watched as Frank scooted back against the corner and kind of draped his arms over the top of the couch, then brought them down to his lap, then put one elbow up against the cushions. He bent his knees and crooked both legs up, then just one, then put both feet flat on the floor again. 

Gerard had the Mikey frown again. “This isn’t gonna work.”

“Awesome.” Frank started to scramble off the couch, but Gerard got up and pushed him back down.

“No, I mean. I can see your bulge, dude. Seriously, you never have a bulge. I wouldn’t have even known you  _had_  a dick if that one time in the van hadn’t happened, and now it just decides to come out and party?”

Frank bristled. “First of all, fuck you, it’s always been there, and second of all, it’s  _still there_. Not like I can angle away and hide it like a hologram or something.” 

“Mash it down,” Gerard suggested.

“What?” 

“Here,” Gerard offered, moving towards Frank. “You don't mind, do you?”

Frank gaped at him. “Are you seriously going to – ” he jumped a little as Gerard poked his crotch “ – okay, you’re totally going to. Holy shit, Gerard, you’re seriously crazy.” But that was just Gerard, sometimes. He was usually the most awkward dude ever, and then there were weird little instances where he was able to detach himself from situations and stand at a purely objective standpoint, which was a pretty fucking rare characteristic to come across. Like, he was a guy who would feel a boob with implants to honestly determine whether it felt like the real thing or not, no secondary agenda whatsoever. Maybe it was a skill that was borne only from the combination of being a basement dweller and studying all those naked life models. 

“Shut up,” Gerard told him absently. He gave another experimental push with his fingertips, then leaned down to examine the change in shadows or composition or whatever while pushing his hair out of his face. “Hmm.”

This time, he pressed it with his palm.

“Dude, this is such a bad idea,” Frank swallowed. 

Bob opened the door. Gerard and Frank automatically looked up at him. Bob looked back. Frank saw his gaze drop to where Gerard’s hand was. 

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Bob dragged out. He closed the door.


End file.
